Better the Devil you know
by Shawree
Summary: Gemma's new office assistant has an unusual hobby, and when her passion comes to light, things get a little messy. 'M' for some language and adult themes. Gemma, OFC, various.
1. Chapter 1

**_This story was written following a conversation with emilief. Thank you for the inspiration and encouragement!_**

**_Comments and constructive criticism welcome._**

* * *

Business is booming at Teller-Morrow, and in between family, grandchildren and charity work, Gemma is struggling to keep on top of the paperwork. It takes some convincing on her part, but eventually Clay agrees to hire a part-time office assistant to help out around the office.

It's not a glamorous job, nor does it pay very much, and there aren't many applications. Most of the applications they do get are from pretty young things with few or no qualifications other than looks. Gemma doesn't bother inviting any of them for interviews; running the office isn't rocket science, but with that many unattached guys around she doesn't want the trouble. There are a few people with backgrounds in call-centres, but while they may have pretty phone manners, Gemma doesn't think they'd last long around the garage – a customer in the office is not the same as a customer on the end of a phone line, and that's not even considering dealing with staff, suppliers or vendors. In the end there are only two candidates: a twenty-something sales assistant from the local Honda garage who wants to move away from the sales floor and into office work, and a thirty-something office administrator with a list of various jobs up and down the country on her CV.

On the day, the sales assistant is a no show, so Gemma isn't in the best mood when the time for the administrator's interview comes around. She is even less impressed with the suited, bespectacled woman carrying a slim black briefcase who appears in the office five minutes before the appointed time. The sharp suit and briefcase are entirely at odds with her tangled brown bob, the make-up free face and the sensible ballerina pumps she wears though – not to mention the ratty blue Ford Fiesta parked in the yard – and Gemma doesn't know what to make of her. She reminds herself that she's fresh out of options though, and that she should give the woman a chance.

The interviewee is short, no more than 5'5", neither big nor slim, pretty but unassuming, and she looks younger than her 36 years. She introduces herself as Dana – Dee for short – with a firm handshake, makes the usual platitudes – pleased to meet you, thank you for inviting me to interview – and accepts the seat Gemma offers her. Gemma asks what brings her to Charming given that it is the one town that doesn't appear on her CV, and she explains that her now ex-husband was in the Air Force, which accounts for her never staying anywhere for more than two years, and that she decided to move to Charming to be closer to her aging parents and her single dad brother when her and the hubby split up a couple of years ago.

Gemma nods, she understands the need to be there for family.

Dana is quick to admit she has no experience in the automotive industry, but points out she has some experience with logistics, supply chains, billing and staff rotas from a stint in the oil industry as well as a pretty intimate knowledge of dealing with demanding customers from working reception at a hospital, of all places. What is more though, she can organise the shit out of anything. Dana phrases it more politely, but that's the gist of it.

The longer Gemma talks to the younger woman the more she thinks Dana might just work out at Teller-Morrow. She asks sensible questions, has reasonable salary expectations, and Gemma appreciates her open and unpretentious approach, suit and briefcase notwithstanding. When the interview comes to an end and Dana makes her good-byes with a 'thank you for your time' and another handshake, Gemma finds herself offering her the job. It isn't as if there are any other candidates anyway.

"Yay, default", Dana smiles and agrees to be at the office for ten o'clock the next morning.

* * *

The first day she shows up in a blouse, slacks and the pumps from the previous day. The second day, she wears a blouse, smart jeans and a pair of boots. The third day she's in boots, jeans and a t-shirt, and after that it's variations on a theme.

Dana delivers on her promise and helps Gemma re-organise the office like a general organising troops for battle. She is efficient to a fault, and she does not react well to anyone messing up 'her' office.

Dee is mostly quiet, but she has a knack for getting on with people, from Piney to Chucky. She has a hello for everyone and a smile for most. She's not easily rattled – after Sheriff Roosevelt's first visit, she simply shouts 'incoming' when she sees a police car approach the garage – and it takes more than a gruff demeanour to intimidate her, although she's wary around Tig, Clay and Happy. She is not immune to Jax's charm, but to Gemma's amusement she not only doesn't fall for it, but makes an effort to be nice to Tara, too. Smart woman.

Unsurprisingly, it's Juice who has her laughing first, an unexpectedly loud guffaw from such a quiet woman. The incident brings her out of her reservation, and it turns out Dee's dirty laugh matches her wicked sense of humour and changes into a rough snicker when she's really tickled. She seems to have soft spots for Opie and Bobby, and when she warms up to Chibs they find out that lewd comments don't make her blush whereas compliments do.

The first time Dana gives Gemma a lift home, Gemma reports back – equal parts gleeful and incredulous – that Dee drives like a boy racer and suffers from a particularly foul mouthed case of road rage. You'd never think it listening to Dana on the phone to customers or suppliers. Then again, listening to her finish a conversation with a friendly 'That's great, thank you very much', you'd never expect her to follow it up by slamming down the receiver and muttering 'fucking asshole', either. Dana knows when to play nice.

Apparently she's not so good at knowing when – or rather, when not – to play naughty though. A few months into her working at Teller-Morrow, Dee shows up one morning with a spectacular bruise on her arm. She plays it off as a sporting injury, and since they know that she goes to the gym and skates, they don't question her. When she starts showing up bruised more often though, Bobby, Juice and Chibs all try talking to her, but she keeps insisting all her injuries are incurred while skating. Neither of the men are convinced, but Dee seems quite happy and not in the least bit cowed – if anything, she seems to get bolder with every bruise. Until the day she arrives at work with a cracked rib and a face like thunder.

At this point Gemma has seen enough and takes her aside, asks her what she thinks she is doing. Tells Dana that a bruise is one thing, but broken bones are quite another, and that she should get out while she can. Last but not least, Gemma makes it clear she doesn't want Dana to bring any of her crap to work to cause trouble. At first Dee looks at Gemma as if she doesn't understand what Gemma is talking about, and then – she laughs. It doesn't sound forced, and it worries Gemma. She is starting to ask herself whether hiring Dana was a mistake after all.

Things seem to calm down while Dee's rib heals, but the moment she pronounces it healed, the bruises start reappearing. Nothing ever comes of it; the tears in the office, the violent boyfriend showing up at the garage – none of the things Gemma anticipates materialise, and Dee remains her sarcastic yet cheerful self.

* * *

One afternoon, while rummaging for her car keys at the end of her shift, Dana takes a large envelope out of her bag and plunks it on her desk. She is in a rush to get away and forgets to pick it back up once she's found the keys; Gemma notices her oversight the moment Dana is out the door. She jumps up, grabs the envelope and follows her assistant, but it is too late: by the time Gemma gets to the door, Dee's Ford is leaving the yard.

Gemma returns to her desk, eyeing the envelope speculatively. She is not beyond a little snooping when it comes to protecting her interests, and as soon as she discovers that the flap is not sealed, her decision is made: she is going to find out what is going on with Dee.

To her surprise, the envelope doesn't contain the papers or documents she expected, but a stack of posters and flyers for 'Charming Roller Devils next home bout'. Gemma is baffled – what are roller devils, and what is a bout?

The picture on the posters and flyers shows two women on quad roller skates who look as if they are trying to push each other out of the way with their hips. The women are wearing different colours – on of them is in bright blue, the other in black – and they both have numbers painted on their upper arms. Are they on sports teams? Gemma can't make heads nor tails of it, but whatever this bout is, apparently it is happening at the Charming Skate Rink from 7 pm (doors) on Saturday and involves the 'Lodi Derby Dolls' as well as the 'Charming Roller Devils'.

Juice, who comes into the office to check tomorrow's rota, finds Gemma sitting at her desk staring at a bit of paper in her hand, deep in thought, absent-mindedly tapping a tooth with a manicured finger.

"Hey Gemma. What's up?"

She looks up from the paper and smiles. "Hey honey. Dee left a pile of these." She shows him the flyer. "I don't suppose this means anything to you?"

Judging by Juice's reaction, it does. He pounces on the flyer and babbles about chicks in fishnets hitting each other. It all sounds like so much mud-wrestling on skates to Gemma, and she acquiesces without a second thought when Juice asks whether he can keep the flyer.

At first she thinks she'll just ask Dee about the 'bout' in the morning, but when Clay gets home late that night and mentions that most of the guys are going to check out this thing with chicks in hot pants on Saturday that Juice kept going on about, she decides to keep her mouth shut and just asks:

"Mind if I tag along?"

Gemma watches Dana over the remainder of the week, but the younger woman just picks up the envelope the next day and puts it back in her bag without comment. She goes about her work as usual, friendly with the occasional dose of swearing, and wishes everybody a nice weekend when she heads off on Friday. Gemma slyly asks about her plans for the weekend, but all she gets in reply is:

"Nothing special, just spending time with the family. See you Monday."

* * *

Saturday evening sees an almost complete SAMCRO delegation arrive at the skate rink. Opie is taking his kids to the cinema, Hap is visiting his mother and Tara is on night shift, but everybody else is there. Gemma is surprised to find the car park and rink bustling with people; she vaguely remembers the place from her younger days, and back then it only ever seemed to have been half full on roller disco nights at best.

The tickets to the bout are as cheap as the beer, so the guys are happy. They claim a row of seats along the long side of what looks like an oval race track and settle in. The arena is filling quickly, and at 7.30 pm sharp events get under way with an announcer in a ridiculously sparkly black cowboy hat welcoming them to Charming Roller Devils' home bout against the Lodi Derby Dolls. At that, two teams of women on skates appear in a corner of the track. One team heads to a bench on the far side of the rink opposite the bleachers, the other team takes to the track.

The team on track, wearing blue, are the Lodi Derby Dolls. To big cheers from the audience, the announcer introduces each skater individually, and each woman waves at the audience when her name is called. Juice flicks through the programme he picked up from the admissions desk, puzzling over the names that accompany the skaters' pictures. There is a 'Rink Crash' and a 'Mad Hitter', and the Lodi team is seemingly captained by 'Nut Ella'.

When all the Lodi skaters have been introduced, they file off the track and onto a bench mirroring the black team's bench, and it's time for the home team to make their 'skate out', as the announcer explains. The audience's excitement increases considerably as the black team, the Charming Roller Devils, make their way onto the track, and the cheers each skater receives are deafening.

"Cindy Clawford!" the announcers shouts. "Returning after a knee injury, Mallrat! Bouncing back from a cracked rib, Red Riding Hot!"

"That's Dee!" Juice suddenly shouts.

"What?" Jax looks at him as if he's lost his mind.

"Red Riding Hot. It's Dee", Juice repeats, excitedly pointing at the programme in his hand. "Look!" He waves the booklet at Jax, but Chibs snatches it away before Jax has a chance to reach for it.

"Gimme that", Chibs demands. "Yeh probably need yer eyes... I'll be damned!" he interrupts himself. "It is Dee as well", he states with a wide grin.

"What?" Now Tig wants in on the action. He leans over Bobby and Jax to look at the programme. "Fuck me", he says incredulously when he sees the picture.

Eventually the programme makes its way down the row to Gemma, and she can see for herself what has the guys in such a tizz. The woman pictured above the name 'Red Riding Hot' wears a fierce scowl, bright red lipstick, black stripes on her cheekbones and looks nothing like the Dee she knows, although it is unmistakably her office assistant Dana.

"Well I'll be damned", Gemma smiles.

* * *

On the track, the two teams have lined up in an odd formation. Two skaters are stood on a line at the back, and there are two lines of skaters in front of them, one on their knees and one standing. When the whistle goes, the line of skaters on their knees get to their feet, then a double whistle blows and both of the skaters at the back start pushing into the skaters in front of them. It looks as if they are trying to get through the lines, but rather than elbow their way through, they only use their shoulders and bodies. There is barely any skating going on, the cluster of pushing and shoving women is only just moving forward, and Gemma is beginning to wonder why they are wearing skates at all when one of the two skaters from the back manages to break through the group and shoots off around the track like a bat out of hell. Suddenly the main group speeds up, too, although Gemma thinks the ladies in black – the Charming Roller Devils, she reminds herself – are hanging back. They also still have the second skater from the back in their midst; in fact, at that moment one of them barrels into the woman and takes her out.

"Oooh!" makes the audience, and "Hard hit from Mallrat on Lodi's jammer", crows the announcer.

The woman doesn't stay down long though. She's back on her feet in seconds and trying to get past the Roller Devils once again when the first skater completes her lap of the track and reaches the back of the main group. As if on command, the Roller Devils part ranks for her, and she's off and at the line of blue skaters at the front of the group. Hot on her heels though is the woman who was taken out, and by the time the first skater is past the blue line, the downed woman is in front of her. The first skater promptly starts slapping her hips in an exaggerated gesture, multiple whistles blow, and the announcer declares the 'jam' 'called off'. Charming scored five points.

"What the hell was that?" Clay raises his eyebrows at Gemma.

She shakes her head. "I have no idea."

Over the course of the next twenty-odd minutes, she works out that the 'bout' is broken up into plays called 'jams' that mostly seem to get called off by the 'lead jammer' – the first woman to make her way through the large group of skaters, as far as Gemma can tell. Each jam starts with a fresh line up of five skaters per team, including the 'jammer', and the women seem to rotate positions. After a few jams, Gemma learns to watch out for the jammers by their helmet covers – a large star on either side of the head. There is another helmet cover in the game, a wide stripe not unlike a mohawk, one on each team, but Gemma doesn't know what it might denote as the women with the stripes always seem to stay with the main group of skaters. She decides to ignore them and tries to keep an eye out for Dee instead when she isn't following the jammers' progress.

It seems she isn't the only one doing so, because every time Dee steps on the track – and she is in every second or third play – the guys are clapping, whistling and hollering next to Gemma.

Dee mostly seems to skate with the main group of skaters. She's by far not the biggest woman on track, but what she lacks in bulk she seems to make up for in speed, agility and technique. Or at least Gemma assumes it must be technique, because she doesn't see how else Dee could hold back and take out some of the women she does. She goes down a few times herself, but like all the other women they have seen fall, Dee always seems to bounce back to her feet within seconds. It certainly seems as if all of Dee's bruises and her cracked rib were exactly what she claimed them to be: sporting injuries.

Dee has worn the striped helmet cover a few times, and she is wearing it again when the period clock is down to just over a minute. Her team's jammer is struggling in this play whereas Lodi's jammer seems to breeze past the ladies in black again and again, racking up points for Lodi. The guys and Gemma can hear Dana bellow where they sit:

"Wall up, wall up!" she yells. Apparently her team doesn't fall in line quickly enough, because she screams again, at the top of her lungs: "Wall. The. Fuck. Up!"

The guys guffaw. Who would have thought that Dee, who gets suppliers to deliver on time by having a friendly chat with them, could have such a set of lungs on her.

The announcer cracks a joke about Dana's swearing and then gets increasingly loud himself when Lodi's jammer emerges from the black line with Dana attached to her hip. The jammer keeps trying to get away, but the two women's legs are interlaced and Dee keeps trying to steer the other woman off the track. They are getting further and further away from the main group of skaters. Dee's team mates start shouting at her to let go, but Dee is like a terrier with its favourite toy. Then the referees start shouting at Dee. She finally looks up, realises they are well out from the other skaters – about 20 feet, Gemma estimates – but instead of letting the jammer go as she is being told to do, she smiles and slams her hip into the other woman. Lodi's jammer goes down like a felled tree to a wildly cheering audience, but a shrill burst of the whistle and the referee's arm coming down sharply send Dana off the track. She steps over the track boundary and hurtles around the outside of the track to the 'sin bin', where she still sits when the end of the first period is signalled.

"Holy shit", Jax comments, eyes wide with excitement. "That's mental."

"It's like rugby but with chicks and on skates", Chibs agrees.

Tig smiles broadly. "What's not to like?"

Gemma shushes them so she can hear the announcer explain that there will be a 15-minute break, followed by a second half-hour period. Lodi is in the lead with 86 points to Charming's 65, will the home team be able to turn the game around in the second half? In the meantime, both teams would love the fans to visit their merch stalls, and of course the bar is open for business, too.

"I'm going for another beer", Bobby says and gets up. "Anybody else want one?"

In the end Bobby and Chibs disappear to the bar, Tig and Clay head for the toilets and Jax goes for a smoke, leaving Gemma and Juice to keep their seats. Gemma stands up to stretch her legs, Juice is bent over the programme.

"Explains the rules in here", he comments.

"You care about the rules?!" Gemma teases him, making him smile widely.

"Nah", he says, white teeth flashing. "I'm just here for the girl-on-girl action."

Gemma snorts.

* * *

Dee starts the second period in the sin bin, leaving her team one skater short, but the ladies in black manage to hold their own until Dee rejoins them. Dee gets a chance to redeem herself in the next jam, when she puts on the jammers stars and manages to claw back some points for the Roller Devils. Then she sits out a couple of jams before putting the jammer hat on again. She successfully manoeuvres her way through the other skaters, but Lodi's jammer is right behind her and sends her flying off the track just as they come out of the corner. Dee crashes into the first row of seats and laughingly disentangles herself from a member of the audience to chase after the other jammer, who is half a lap ahead of her now.

"Damn!" Tig complains. "If I'd known I could've had chicks flying at me I would've sat down there!"

"Tig, it's Dee", Clay reminds him. "Do you really want the office help on your lap?"

Tig shrugs. "I don't know, it's starting to look like a good idea to me."

The second period seems to pass much quicker than the first. Perhaps it is because they have a better grasp of the game now, perhaps it is because Lodi and Charming are playing neck and neck. Almost every play sees a lead change until finally the Roller Devils cinch it in the last jam and win the bout 149 to Lodi's 137. As soon as the last whistle goes, the audience are on their feet and stream down to the track to line up in a long line, one hand outstretched toward the middle. Before the club have a chance to speculate what this is about, both teams of sweaty, smiling skaters start a lap of honour, high-fiving the audience's eager hands as they go. One woman even skates backwards, pointing at her rear and inviting the audience to slap her ass as she zips past.

"Damn!" Tig complains again. Chibs elbows him in the ribs.

Lap of honour done, both teams meet in the middle of the track to exchange hugs and congratulations while helpers begin the clean up. The audience starts to dissipate, and Gemma, Clay and Tig file out after the rest of the spectators, but Juice hangs back.

"Come on, let's go and say hello", he says to Chibs, Jax and Bobby. The three men nod, and Juice leads them down to the rink floor. When they get there, Dee is waving good-bye to two small girls following a broad-shouldered man towards the exit. Juice thinks they must be Dee's nieces; he's sure he has seen the man stop by Teller-Morrow at lunch time on a couple of occasions.

"Hey, Dee", he says.

Dee twirls around on her skates. Her eyes grow round at the sight of the four Sons. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?" she exclaims and practically jumps on Juice in an enthusiastic hug. "I can't believe you're here! Did you enjoy the game?" She lays big fat kisses on all of them, then laughs at their stunned faces. "I'm sorry, I'm a sweaty Betty. I probably stink to high heaven. We won!" Her eyes sparkle, and she has the biggest smile on her face.

They can't help but answer with smiles of their own; her good mood is infectious.

"That was crazy", Jax states, grinning. "How long've you been doing this?"

"A few years. I used to play with different teams when I was still m-"

"Hey, Red!" a shout from the remaining skaters interrupts her. "Come and pick up your award!"

Dee looks over to her team mates. "Whoops, my presence is requested", she apologises to the Sons and starts skating off. Then she stops and turns back. "You guys should totally come to the after party! Coyote Club from ten. I'll buy you a drink?"

"Deal", Jax accepts on their behalf, and Dee is gone.

* * *

Tig, Chibs, Bobby, Juice and Jax hit the Coyote Club at the back of eleven. The place is bursting at the seams, and the party has spilled onto the street. The Sons pick their way past little groups and clusters of people drinking, chatting, laughing and smoking. Their cuts are met with a few quirked eyebrows, but people don't pay them much attention, and the bouncers only state that they don't want trouble. Jax reassures him they are not here to make trouble, and they head inside. They haven't even made it to the bar yet when someone shouts:

"Hey, my favourite guys!" A woman flings an arm around Chibs's neck and smacks a wet kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you came."

It's Dana, although the guys hardly recognise her. The usually messy bob is smooth and sleek, spiked up at the back, and makeup accentuates her blue eyes and red lips. She is wearing a denim mini skirt, fishnet tights, black boots with steel heels that make her legs look endless and a cut-back, figure-hugging t-shirt with a 'Charming Roller Devils' logo on it. What really catches their eyes though is her cleavage. Not that she's showing that much, but what there is is adorned with a crude depiction of a penis, including sack and a few scraggly pubic hairs that resemble cat whiskers more than anything else, alongside the legend 'I love cock'.

Chibs gives her a toothy grin. "Yeh love cock, do yeh?"

Dee looks confused for a moment, then she laughs. "Oh yeah, beware of Mallie." She gestures at another woman wearing a Charming Roller Devils shirt who is currently drawing on the arm of a punky blonde sporting a Lodi Derby Dolls top. "She's a fiend with a marker pen when she's got a few drinks in her."

"I'll bear that in mind", Chibs winks.

They make their way to the bar, and Dee orders a round of beers.

A few rounds later, the boys watch Dana strut her stuff on the dance floor with her friend and team mate Mallrat, the one with the marker pen.

"Dee's got moves", Juice comments, admiration in his voice.

"I wonder what kinda moves she has in the sack", Tig speculates.

Chibs grins. "Only one way to find out!"

Jax smirks.

* * *

Dee wakes up to a pounding headache, sore sinuses and a queasy stomach that have her vowing never to drink again. She cracks open an eye, slowly blinks away the haze of sleep and gradually comes to the conclusion that she's not in her bedroom – the walls should be pale yellow, not white – although she's definitely in a bed. That realisation is swiftly followed by the awareness that she's naked and not alone. Someone is snoring behind her, and she has no idea who it is. There's no chance she's going to turn around to find out just now though; the room is already spinning fast enough as it is.

She has vague memories of dancing with Juice and Mallie – well, gyrating would be the more appropriate term – flirting with Chibs and, against her better judgement, Jax, and chatting with Bobby. She even thinks she put a lipstick print on Tig's chest and signed it 'Red Hot' with Mallie's pen. After that, all she remembers is stumbling outside into the cold and climbing onto the back of a bike.

That last thought has her eyes fly wide open, and the room promptly goes on a mad rollercoaster ride around her head. When the dizziness finally fades, Dee's gaze falls onto something on the back of the bedroom door that makes her groan with dawning horror.

"Oh god, what have I done", she whispers as the reaper leers at her from the folds of a cut.


	2. Chapter 2

Hangover country is not a fun place to be. Dee would feel sick to her stomach even without the reaper mocking her; having the skeletal face grin at her from the cut hung on the back of the bedroom door is just the cherry on top of the icing, and all the more reason to allow her heavy eyelids to close again. She's not ready to face the day, much less last night's folly.

* * *

Last night's folly is determined to catch up with her though. The next thing Dana knows, a hand is patting her shoulder, and a voice says:

"Wake up, Dee." A pause, and then again: "C'mon darling, wake up."

Groaning, Dana cautiously opens her eyes, only to immediately screw them shut against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. An amused chuckle answers the face she makes, followed by the sound of curtains being drawn.

"There, try again."

Dee squints, but the light is much dimmer now, and she opens her eyes. She's pleased to discover that the room has stopped spinning. Although she still has a nasty headache and a queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she sits up and gratefully accepts the mug of steaming coffee held out to her. The first sip makes her sigh blissfully, and then she can't put it off any longer. She looks up.

"Oh... Hey. It's you", she says lamely.

"Good morning to yeh, too", Chibs laughs. "How's the head?" He quirks an eyebrow at her in enquiry.

Dana groans again. "Don't ask", she mumbles, shaking her head slightly. She takes another sip from the coffee. "Did we... um?" She can't quite bring herself to finish the question, and to her embarrassment she can feel her cheeks heating up.

Chibs has no such reservations. "Did we fuck?" he says helpfully, smirking.

"Yes", Dee mutters. She's annoyed with herself for blushing even harder, but pushes on regardless. "Did we?"

Suddenly the smirk is gone from Chibs's face. "Don't tell me you don't remember", he says, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Um..." Dana doesn't know what to say. She really can't remember.

"I cannae have left much of an impression if yeh dinnae even remember", Chibs echoes her thoughts. He snorts. "Yeh said I rocked yer world."

His hard gaze makes Dana squirm. "I'm sorry, Chibs, I... I was really drunk last night, I barely remember leaving the club", she babbles, staring into her mug. "I honestly can't remember. I'm really sor – " She looks up to face him, but when she meets his eyes there's a mischievous glint there that stops her short, and it's her turn to narrow her eyes. "Wait a second! 'You rocked my world'? That doesn't sound like something I'd say." A moment later realisation hits. "You're winding me up!"

Chibs maintains his poker face for a few seconds, then he caves under Dee's accusing glare. "Guilty as charged", he admits, probably not something he does very often.

"Jackass", she grumbles, and more loudly: "Not funny."

He says "Sorry darling", but he doesn't look very apologetic. More like the cat that got the cream, which is not a look Dee associates with him. Then something occurs to her.

"If we didn't have sex, why am I naked in your bed, and why did I wake up next to you this morning?" She chooses not to contemplate the fact it could've been anyone snoring next to her for all she knows.

But Chibs just laughs again and explains that she got soaked last night when one of the Lodi girls stumbled next to her on the dance floor and accidentally spilled her beer over Dee. At that point Dee was drunk enough to try and take her soggy top off then and there, and when they'd stopped her from doing that – he doesn't mention Tig was all for letting her strip – they decided it was time to get her home. Juice offered to give her a lift, but Dana refused to tell them her address and insisted on going home with Chibs instead.

Dee hides her face behind the mug, mortified. Part of her wonders for a moment whether he is just telling her this to cover for the fact he took advantage of her when she was – face it – wasted, but even though she doesn't know him that well, she somehow doesn't think so. She doesn't feel as if anything happened last night anyway – and then surprises herself by thinking she wouldn't mind if it had, although in that case she'd rather have been sober enough to enjoy it.

Telling her treacherous brain to shut up, she looks around the sparsely furnished bedroom. There's the bed, a small bedside table, a wardrobe and a couple of hooks behind the door, one of which still holds Chibs's cut. That's it.

"This your place then?"

"Aye. Although you wouldnae have thought it seeing how you made yourself at home last night", he grins.

Dana looks at Chibs. "What do you mean?" she asks.

Chibs informs her that when they got in, she dropped her bag and boots by the door, threw her jacket over the sofa in the living room, marched down the hall, stopped to ask where the bathroom was, used the bathroom, came out sans t-shirt, asked where the bedroom was and disappeared. By the time he caught up with her, she'd undressed – skirt, tights, bra and undies in a tidy pile on the floor – slipped into bed and was fast asleep across both halves of his double bed. He found her beer-stained t-shirt hung neatly over the shower curtain rail in the bathroom.

"I'm surprised yeh didnae leave a toothbrush by the sink", he finishes with a wink.

Dee groans to herself. Trust her to make the most of an opportunity to impress. She's beginning to wish she'd never invited the guys to the party. At least then it would've been Mallie on the receiving end of her drunken antics, and not someone she has to work with.

The thought of work and having to go back to the office tomorrow makes her groan again.

"I don't suppose you could keep this to yourself?" she asks in an uncharacteristically small voice. "Back at work, I mean?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry darling, everybody already knows yeh came home wi' me. Yeh were pretty vocal about no' wanting tae go wi' anybody else", Chibs grins at the memory, "and I dinnae think Tig will hae kept that tae himself."

"Oh great." Dee lets her head fall back against the headboard and closes her eyes for a moment. She really did it this time.

Chibs must have an inkling of what's going through her head because he abruptly changes the topic. "Bathroom's across the hall if yeh want a shower. There's clean towels in the cabinet under the sink, and yeh can borrow one of my t-shirts. Just pick one out of the wardrobe." He gestures at the wardrobe in the corner opposite the bed and is gone before she can say 'thank you'.

Sighing, Dee edges the mug onto the small bedside table, trying to fit it in between an ashtray and a lamp that already take up most of the available space. Just when she thinks she managed, something she hadn't noticed slides off of the back of the bedside table and clatters down the gap between the table and the wall.

"Shit." Dee hauls herself out of bed and kneels down next to the bedside table to feel for the item. She hopes she didn't break it, whatever it is.

After some fumbling, her fingers encounter a smooth surface, then a corner. She has to wiggle her hand a little, but eventually she gets a proper hold of the corner and retrieves the item. It's a picture frame. Thankfully neither the silver rim nor the glass are damaged, and Dana puts the frame back on the bedside table with a sigh of relief.

The picture shows a stunning woman with a head full of dark-and-silver curls, her arm around a frightened-looking, dark-haired teenager who seems to try very hard to smile at the camera. For a moment Dee wonders who the woman and the girl are, then she picks herself up and heads over to the wardrobe. She doesn't want to rake through Chibs's clothes, so she grabs the first t-shirt she can find, puts it on and darts into the bathroom.

* * *

"Better?" Chibs greets her when she wanders into the living room twenty minutes later, hair wet, dressed in his t-shirt and her skirt and tights from last night, her discarded t-shirt in hand.

"Yeah, thanks." She plonks down on the side of the sofa that has her jacket hanging over the back and immediately regrets doing so. The padding is almost gone, and she just let herself fall onto a wooden frame with a very thin layer of foam over it. "Ouch", she complains, rubbing the back of her leg. "What is this, a medieval torture device in disguise?"

"Something like that", Chibs smiles ruefully from the worn easy chair he's sitting in. "Been meaning tae replace it fer ages, but I just never seem tae get round to it." He shrugs. "I woulda left yeh the bed if it wasnae fer that piece a shite", he adds, almost as an afterthought. "Last time I fell asleep on it, it took me a coupla days tae straighten out my back after."

"That's alright", Dana waves off his apology. "It's bad enough I invited myself to stay, I hardly expect you to give up your bed for me." She ducks her head, tucks some stray hairs behind her ear and says: "Listen, I'm really sorry for causing you so much hassle. You shouldn't have had to haul my drunk ass home or waste your Sunday waiting for me to get over my hangover. Sorry."

It's Chibs's turn to wave away her apology. "Dinnae worry about it. We all do stupid shit when we're drunk." He laughs. "Yeh shoulda seen me when I was a teenager back in Ireland. My mates and I used tae play chicken wi' lamp posts and bus shelters and the like." A wry smile curls the corners of his lips.

Dana frowns. "Is that a euphemism for something? How do you play chicken with something that doesn't move?"

The suspicious expression on her face makes Chibs laugh. "Naw, no euphemism", he assures her. "As tae how yeh play it - yeh just keep running at the thing."

"Eh?" Dee's expression changes to open confusion. "What's the point in that? Lamp posts or bus shelters aren't gonna get out of the way, are they?"

"Well, no", Chibs agress, chuckling. "That IS the point. If yeh slow down or swerve, yer a chicken."

"What, so the only way to win is to run into something full tilt?" Now Dee looks as incredulous as she sounds.

Chibs shrugs. "I said it was daft, didn't I? It's just stupid shit yeh do when yer drunk. No point beating yerself up over it."

"I suppose", Dee agrees hesitantly. 'I was drunk' is not usually an excuse she accepts from anyone, herself included; after all, she let herself get that drunk in the first place.

"Dinnae be too hard on yerself", Chibs repeats. It sounds like he means it. Then that mischievous glint is back in his eyes, and he adds casually: "We only had tae stop once on the way home tae let yeh be sick."

"What?" Dana asks weakly.

"Yeh told me it was that or yeh'd 'vom all over my fucking reaper'", he smirks. By the way he emphasises the words, Dana can tell he must be quoting her directly.

She winces "I'm sorry", but Chibs waves her off again.

"I told yeh, dinnae worry. It's no' like I got no benefit. Yeh look pretty in yer birthday suit." He winks at her and gets up. "More coffee?"

"Er...", Dee croaks over the rush of blood in her ears. "No thanks." She scrambles up off of the sofa, thinking that she's had enough embarrassment for one day. "Let me just call a taxi, and I'll let you get on with your Sunday."

Chibs treats her to a level look. "Dinnae be daft. I'll give yeh a lift home." Then he raises an eyebrow. "Provided yer willing tae tell me yer address today."


End file.
